


Time And Again

by girlintheglen



Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [19]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:50:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen





	Time And Again

 

 

 

Illya was eating an orange, an almost lascivious indulgence to someone observing how he consumed it. He shoved another segment of the luscious fruit into his mouth as juice squirted out, another element of the process that enhanced his enjoyment of it.

 Napoleon watched his friend as he consumed the orange, choosing to not dwell on whatever deprivation in the man’s past fueled his passion for food. As it was, in the wake of daily revelations, he decided early on in their partnership to not pry or act as though the Russian’s past life experiences mattered more than the present.

 Illya finished the orange, sighing with contentment as he leaned back and let the sun beat down on his body. The mission was accomplished, and the reward, an unusual act of largesse on the part of Mister Waverly, was allowing the two agents to stay a few days longer in Greece; Macedonia to be exact, something that prompted Illya to comment.

 “Do you know that this area was once occupied by many Slavic people? The Greek Civil War drove most of them out, but it’s an interesting historical oddity. One doesn’t think of Greece as a home to the Slavic people.” Illya leaned back and let the sun do its work. His body was weary, signs of abuse evident in the bruises on his torso and arms. A tan was beginning to camouflage them, although the discoloration would remain for several weeks.

 Napoleon knew a little about the Greek civil war, but he didn’t remember anything about an exodus of Slavic people from this region. In truth, he hadn’t been aware of a Slavic population in Greece. 

 “Where did they go?” Illya was always dropping bits of information and leaving some part of it unexplained. Sometimes Napoleon wondered if it was purposeful, as though prompting a longer conversation by forcing people to ask questions of him.

 “The majority of them ended up in the Yugoslav Socialist Republic of Macedonia . Some immigrated to Canada, some to Australia. It is interesting that the United States was not a popular choice.” He added that last without prejudice, it was merely an observation.

 A breeze caught the scent of something floral as it passed over them. Napoleon was ready to head back to their hotel; a small little boutique style establishment with only a few rooms. Waverly had arranged it, the man who maintained it was unofficially associated with UNCLE, the little hotel a safe place for agents and other carefully chosen patrons.

 “I think I’ll go back and shower, it’s almost time for dinner.” He fully expected the always hungry Russian to respond to that, but in looking a little closer he saw that Illya was asleep. Oh well, better to let him catch up, the last week hadn’t allowed them to get much rest as they wrestled with yet another bunch of evil-doers. 

 As that thought ran through his mind, Napoleon remembered a reference in the Bible that had been in their briefing. It was from the book of Acts, where the Apostle Paul had a vision of a man in Macedonia pleading for someone to come and help them there. It had been included as part of the original request to UNCLE for help here; the writer was using that verse of scripture to underline the need for intervention in the wake of activities that were threatening the population. 

 Napoleon wondered about it as he walked back to the hotel. Were they agents of the Almighty? Illya wouldn’t think so, would probably make a derisive comment if Napoleon were to even mention it.

 Still, evil was evil and they did combat with it on a regular basis. Something his mother used to quote came back to him as he ruminated the possibilities. A passage from the book of Esther had been her way of encouraging him that the future held so much possibility. 

  _A_ _nd who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?_

 Who knew _then_ that he would be traveling the world, fighting an unheralded war against those who sought to destroy all of the best things in life?

 Perhaps they had been called here just as Saint Paul had been, to right wrongs and help those in need. He admitted to not knowing what it was that first call for help had entailed, but he settled into a comfortable sense of assurance that, in spite of what others might think, his was a righteous cause. It suited Napoleon’s romantic sensibilities to envision himself as a man of destiny, just as his mother had encouraged him to believe.

 Whether or not his particular calling was divinely authorized was a point that he decided could be left for another day. 

 

 


End file.
